Contemplation
by Taree
Summary: Remus contemplates his life, his feelings, his losses and his very own punishment after Voldemort's downfall.


Disclaimer: Well, guess what, I don't own HP, especially not Remus (whom I wouldn't want to have anyway, to be honest).

A/N: A **big **thank you goes to Airlia. She betaed the story so fast that I didn't even had the time to blink.  
Dedicated to Pia - dont't forget breathing.

Contemplation

Much we have lost, and victory tastes bitter. 

My hopes were destroyed with my fears, shattered like glass are the lives of the ones I love. Now time stays still, not bereaving my mind from the knowledge that the world will start turning again, although I now may believe it's never ever possible again. I still hold my breath, waiting to wake up from that dream – or shall I call it a nightmare? How is it possible that joy is so completely entwined with despair and never ending grief? Emptiness is celebrating where once warmth and love had found their home. 

The darkness that came back to my life, which I now can lead in the light of false happiness. How absurd, since before Voldemort's downfall life was hidden in shadows but I was covered with light due to them and the friendship they honoured me with. I had found more than I ever hoped I could get, and I lost more than I thought I'd be able to bear. Not one of them is left to suffer with me, not one of them is left to share the grief, no one I can soothe or who will soothe me. 

And still I can't tell what hurts more, to have them lost or to know that they were lost by the betrayal of a friend… 

His eyes were as empty as I felt. He stood in front of the judge like a figure of marble, his features hard as if they'd been carved out of stone. I tried to catch his eye, tried to understand why, oh why he had done it. I will never understand, and I believe neither will he. So we looked at each other, and for what seemed like an eternity it was just the two of us, no matter how many people there were there. I was lost in his eyes, those dark eyes, and I couldn't read them, couldn't tell what lie beneath that frightening emptiness. Was it evil? Cruelty? Hate? Despair? Regret? Or loneliness? I'll never know, but I'm sure he read my thoughts and feelings like an open book. I had nothing to hide, not from him. Then someone asked him, if he had something to say to his defence. And he spoke without breaking our eye contact. He spoke to them, but his words were directed at me. 

_You won't believe me anyway. _

It was the last time I heard his voice, because he never spoke again, not a single word. But these words do hunt me now, by day and night. They are a living memory of broken trust and a broken man. And they are the reason why I don't know what to think, what to feel, what to believe. Perhaps I should hate him, but I never will because I loved him first, and I learned long ago that hate isn't an emotion I may myself allow to have. So now we both have to live with our shadows and our darkness, and every day I think of him. Deep down inside I wish to save him from that hell they send him to, from that hell he now belongs to. He brought himself there, they say, he deserves what he got. But I want him back, I want the boy back with whom I laughed, and I want the man back I trusted, I don't want him nearer to madness than I am when the moon is full. I can't stop to feel this way, and I don't pity him, because where pity could grow there's already guilt. I was not there when he needed me most - I was not there when all of them needed me most. I have betrayed them, too. 

So perhaps I will be punished too, perhaps I punish myself with the hell I build around me. I can't undo what has been done, and I can't change the past as much as I wish. I wish it so dearly that I think I go crazy, and sometimes my deluded mind tells me there's always one way left, easier to go than all the others. Then I desperately want to see my life drifting away, then I want to find the cure for my wounded soul in death. But I never try, because I tried before, earlier in my life, and I know I could not do it – although not for the same reasons. At that time I wanted to kill the wolf, whom I hated so much, for he poisoned my life and the life of everyone who came close to me. But the man inside of me wanted to live, the man was greedy for life, he longed to live and so I had to. Now my life is still poisoned, and now I want to kill the man, but the wolf is stronger, he gained power, and he won't let me die, the moon wants him to live and so I have to. And strange enough, it's the wolf who reminds me of my duty. I don't deserve death, not yet. My task is still unfinished, I remained to watch and to fight again to keep save what they defended and protected with their lives. A high price they paid, perhaps not willingly – they loved each other and Harry too much – but they paid without hesitation. Who am I to make it easier for myself than they had it? 

So I'll live, and I'll wait for the day to pay my debt to their son, the most innocent and worst punished of all of us, the boy who won and lost and lived. He's the living seed, and everyone expects great things from him after what happened. I simply want him be well and to see him grow up, I want him to learn what great gift he received and to know how much his parents loved him, how much his mother loved him. Nothing is punished more than love, she knew it and loved the more. 

Some day I will learn, some day I will understand why everything happened the way it did. Some day there will be no more regrets, no more tears I'm trying to hide from the world and no more loneliness for any of us. Some day life will be bright again, it has to – I'm still able to hope, although I don't want to hope. But life is stronger than what I want, life goes on and it carries me away. Memories remain, memories won't fade, wounds either, but they'll heal. 

And I'm already used to scars. 


End file.
